


Endgame

by Eireann



Series: Shadow [7]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-07 21:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eireann/pseuds/Eireann
Summary: This is the last scene in my 'Shadow' series.  Malcolm and Hoshi's family is complete ... but for one last, important addition.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red_River_Hog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_River_Hog/gifts).



> Star Trek and all its intellectual property belongs to Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no money made.

* * *

“Three-thirty, Geraldine.  Go and put that poster by the front gate like we agreed.”

“But what if someone else sees it first?”

“He’s sold.  End of.  Unless _you’d_ like to tell the Commander about it....”

=/\= 

“Come on, Jessa – have you got your coat?”

“Yes, mumma!” The tot pulled it hastily from the peg in the school cloakroom.  “Oh – where’s my bag?”

“You put it down on the bench when you changed your shoes.”  Her long-suffering elder brother Charles produced the article in question.

“I knew that _really!_ ” Jessa pouted at him.

A very short while ago, their mother reflected, Charles would have stuck his tongue out at her in reply.  However, he was beginning to acquire a sense of dignity that sometimes sat strangely on an eight-year old, however well it suited his forty-year-old father.  Instead he adopted an air of resignation that made Hoshi Sato-Reed hide a smile as she ushered both of her children out to the waiting flitter. 

It had been Jessa’s first day at school.  Unlike Charles, who had taken a while to adapt to life at Saint Mary’s Primary, she seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed her first day, and almost immediately began chattering about the other children and the teachers and the lessons – many of which would probably be wasted on her for a while, as she had already proved to have her mother’s facility with languages, knowing the alphabet and already able to spell out a number of simple words.

Charles was probably paying very little attention.  He had the facility of retreating into himself and thinking his own thoughts; a little dreamer, his mother thought fondly, not for the first time.

However, he was invariably good at noticing things.  And even though she was more or less expecting it, even Hoshi was slightly startled by the sharp cry he let out:  _“Puppies for sale!”_

“Puppies!” Jessa had been ready to wail at this unceremonious interruption of her exciting story, but as the cause of it registered, the creases of displeasure in her face smoothed themselves out like magic.  “Where?”

“Back there!  Mum, please –  _please_ may we go and look?”

Hoshi made herself frown dubiously.  “Did it say what sort of puppies they were?”

“Please, Mumma!” Jessa added her mite.  “I want to see the puppies!”

Charles’ fingers tightened on the back of the empty front passenger seat as the flitter slowed.  “Mum, Dad’s _always_ said we can have a dog when Jessa’s old enough!”

His mother glanced in the rear-view mirror at her youngest child, who nodded importantly and tried to look very grown-up, shoving her doll down beside the car seat out of sight.

“You’re not to get your hopes up,” she warned.  “It doesn’t matter how cute a puppy is, your dad won’t have a powder-puff in the house.”

Her son looked disdainful.  “Of course not!  We want a _proper_ dog.”

Hiding her smile at that most faithful echo, Hoshi turned the flitter and drove back to the house where the cardboard sign was propped against the hedge.  “They may not have any left,” she warned as she pulled up in front of the drive.

“Then they’d have taken the sign in, wouldn’t they?”

“I’m just warning you, just in case.”

“Dad’s usually the one who thinks the worst every time.” Charles grinned up at her, and she reached over and tweaked his nose.

Jessa was almost jumping up and down with excitement as they walked up to the house, but her brother whispered in her ear and she made a visible effort to control herself.

“Good evening!” Hoshi said politely as a middle-aged man answered the doorbell.  “I believe you have some puppies for sale?”

“Well, they _were_ all sold, Missus,” the man said, but glanced down at the crestfallen children and added, “that’s to say, they were, but one of the buyers pulled out this morning.  We’ve just got the one left.”

Despair turned to joy on two indrawn breaths.  Could anything possibly be more fortuitous?

“What breed are they, please, sir?” asked Charles quickly, almost on tiptoe with hope.  “And do you have the parents?”

“We breed German Shepherds, young man,” came the reply.  “The parents are our own dogs, raised in the family.  And I’m glad you asked that question.  Shows you know what a responsible owner should look for.”

Once again Hoshi was obliged to hide a smile.  The boy had catechized his father so often on all aspects of dog ownership that it was sometimes hard to believe he had never owned one. 

Responsible ownership was not high on Jessa’s list of priorities.  “Can we see it, please, please?” she begged.

“We _are_ considering buying a puppy,” Hoshi added gravely.  “Obviously we need to find the right one, but I assure you we’re not just wasting your time.”

The man looked at all three of them and seemed to come to a decision.  “Well then, you’d better come in.  

“O’Donnell, Tom O’Donnell,” he introduced himself in response to Hoshi’s politely giving him her and her children’s names.  “My wife Geraldine’s in the kitchen, feeding Thor – he’s our stud dog, you should be able to meet him in a minute and then if you like the look of him I’ll bring in the pup and his mam.  I’m sure you know not to make a grab for the little ‘un.  Thor’s easygoing for a dog, but Sif’s just got the one to guard now and she likes to give people the once-over first.” 

“We’ll be very quiet, sir,” Charles assured him, and squeezed Jessa’s hand hard to make her pay attention. 

“If you just come into the lounge and sit down, I’ll bring Thor in to show you.  Then we’ll see Sif and the littl’un.”  He ushered them through a door into a large, bright room wallpapered in peach.  Hoshi took a seat on the sofa there and the children sat on either side of her, stiff with anticipation as their host walked to the kitchen door.  “Geraldine, has Thor finished his dinner?”

“Just about,” a voice floated in.  “Come on, greedy-guts.  You can finish it in a minute.  Go and show yourself off.”

The breeder gave a short, sharp whistle and there was immediately the sound of claws on the kitchen floor.  A moment later the door was opened wide to admit a very large German Shepherd dog, who levelled alert eyes and upstanding ears at the new arrivals, and trotted over to inspect them at close quarters.

Jessa probably hadn’t really understood how big her father’s preferred breed of dog could be, and as Thor stared at her she shrank nervously against her mother.  Charles was probably just as nervous, but his thin frame was tense with excitement as he slowly extended his hand, fingers down and closed inward as he’d been taught.

“He’s _beautiful!_ ” the boy breathed as Thor politely sniffed his hand and then licked it.  “Will – will the puppy look like this, sir?”

“And is it a boy or a girl?” Jessa took courage from the dog’s placidity and reached out to pat the harsh dark coat over the strong shoulders.

“Well, it’s a boy puppy and I reckon there’s a good chance he’ll look very like his dad.  He’s a bit dark at the moment, but they generally get lighter as they grow up. Do you want to see him?”

Two heads nodded in enthusiastic unison and he went out to the kitchen, taking Thor with him.

Hoshi looked down at the children.  “Be very quiet now,” she warned them.  “The puppy’s mother will want to know you don’t mean her baby any harm. Just sit very quietly and look till the man says you can touch.”

Jessa thrust her hands under her armpits as though to squeeze them into obedience; Charles clasped his between his knees.  “Do you think Dad will come and see, if we tell him about it?” he whispered.  “It’s a boy puppy, and he’s _always_ said we should have a boy dog to look after us!”

Yet again Hoshi was obliged to suppress a smile.  “You’ll have to tell him and see what he thinks about it.”

The mother dog was presumably kept in some sort of utility room, for there was the sound of a second door opening and the man speaking gently.  After a moment there were returning footsteps and more claw sounds, and he came into the lounge with a rather smaller German Shepherd walking beside him, looking up somewhat possessively at what he was carrying.

Describing the scene to her husband later that night, Hoshi was to say she had seen the moment when their son’s heart flew out of his chest and fastened on the black-and-tan woolly ball of mischief who was set down on the carpet in front of him and immediately pranced up to say hello.  The puppy’s little black face with its one pricked and one lopsided ear split in an outsize grin as he leaned up to lay huge paws against the boy’s legs. 

“O-o-o-oh!” breathed Jessa.  “Can I stroke him, Mumma?  _May_ I?”

“Sif, down.  Stay.” The mother dog immediately lay down beside the man’s foot, and he squatted down to rub her behind the ears.  “All right then, kids.  Nice and gentle, please, just put her mind at ease.”

Charles’s hand crept towards the puppy’s chin and began rubbing beneath it.  Hoshi sat back and let Jessa lean across her legs, while she herself kept a weather eye on the watching dog; it was obvious that the breeder was perfectly ready to intervene if necessary, but there seemed little danger that his intervention would be required.  The mother relaxed her vigilance almost at once, and seemed more interested in investigating her owner’s pocket for treats than in safeguarding her puppy as he was reverently petted by two love-struck children.

Perhaps a couple of minutes passed before Hoshi drew the interview to a close.  She wanted to get home, as dinner was in the oven.  The table was already set and she’d arranged her schedule according to the dark plans her husband had laid, but he’d had been away in San Francisco for a week and she wanted to shower and freshen up before he arrived; there was little doubt that the children would besiege him the moment he set foot through the door, but she had dark plans of her own for him when she could get them off to bed.  Though even if consigned to bed they probably wouldn’t sleep very early, with them being as excited as they were.

“Have you had any other enquiries about the puppy?” she asked.

To do him credit, the breeder shook his head with perfect seriousness.  “Not today, missus, but I’d be surprised if we didn’t find a good home for him shortly.”

Out of sight, Charles’s fingers gripped into the back of her jacket, while Jessa stifled a gasp of horror with both hands.   

“But being as your little ‘uns seem so taken with him, I’ll make you a deal.  If anyone else comes asking, I’ll tell them we have a potential sale – to be confirmed by this time tomorrow, or he’ll be back on the market.  Will that be good enough?”

“Oh _yes_ , sir!” The words broke from the boy in a gasp of relief before his mother could reply.  “We have to speak to Dad – I’m sure he’ll be interested, I’m sure of it!” 

“We’ll speak to him when he gets home,” said Hoshi, smiling.  “If you’ll give me your telephone number, sir, we’ll be in touch to confirm our interest – or to say we’ve changed our minds.  It’s not fair to keep you waiting till tomorrow.”

O’Donnell handed over a card, which she pocketed.  Even if either of her children got hold of it, it was unlikely that they would realize that a breeder who had a champion dog at stud would not usually advertise puppies on a cardboard sign at the front gate; in the wake of the Xindi crisis, however, _Enterprise_ ’s officers rarely had to do more than name a favor for it to be granted.  Normally Malcolm’s prickly pride would have revolted at taking advantage of this – he was still smarting from the knowledge that fate had prevented him playing any significant part in the resolution of the threat – but in the cause of delighting his children he had been willing to swallow his reservations sufficiently to exercise a little underhand tactical cunning when he’d visited the house some weeks ago to purchase the pick of the litter.

Over the course of the rest of the drive home, the sole topic of conversation was the puppy.  Even Jessa’s loved-to-shabbiness doll Bessie was abandoned and lay forgotten on the car seat, staring reproachfully at the ceiling. 

“Is Dadda coming home _soon?_ ” the child persisted anxiously, trotting after Hoshi into the kitchen while Charles hurtled upstairs to change out of his uniform.  “That man won’t give our puppy away to anyone else, will he?”

Hoshi consulted the display on the message board of the home phone.  “‘Landed on time.  Home soon.  Hope kids OK. Dad,’” she read out, and glanced at the clock.  “He should be here in about half an hour, unless there’s heavy traffic on the freeway.”

“It’s a _motorway_ , Mum.  How long have you lived here?” Breathless, Charles bounded into the kitchen.  “Can I lay the– oh.”

“I finished my grading early enough to get it done before I came to pick you up.  Short assignments this time.”  She handed him the cordial to pour into the waiting glasses.

“Mum, _you_ liked the puppy, didn’t you?  You will talk to Dad, won’t you?”  He paused in the act of pouring and looked at her appealingly.

She nodded, as one giving the matter judicious consideration.  “He was a cute little thing.  But I’ll make one suggestion.  Don’t jump it straight at your dad as soon as he comes in.  It’s a long trip from San Francisco and he’ll be tired.  Just let him get showered and changed and eat his dinner, and then relax for a few minutes, and _then_ he’ll be ready to listen.” 

“Softening up the target, eh, Mum?” He grinned at her, a grin so like his father’s that her heart turned over.

“I prefer to think of it as giving yourself the maximum tactical advantage.”  She smiled back at him.

“But Dadda will say yes, won’t he?” wailed Jessa.  “I want to ask him _now!_ ”

“No, listen, Jess – listen!” Her brother hunkered down in front of her and took hold of her wrists, shaking them slightly to make her heed him.  “We have to wait till Dad’s in a really good mood, and then he’ll be more likely to say yes.  Let him have some dinner, he’ll be hungry when he comes in, _then_ he’ll want to sit and listen to us and we can tell him all about the puppy.”

A doubtful, jutted lip indicated that this was not the preferred option.

“Do you want the puppy or not, sweetheart?” asked Hoshi, opening the oven to check on the contents.  “If you do, you’d better take good advice when you hear it.”

The child paled and nodded, clutching Bessie to her chest.  “I will, Mumma, I will!”

“Good enough.  Now I’m just going to run into the shower, so you two behave yourselves.  And mind, if Malcolm comes in before I get down – nothing about that puppy!”


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm sighed with relief as he set his hand to the garden gate.

It had been good to visit San Francisco again, and to spend a week deep in highly technical discussions with like minds.  The fruits of his many months of study and experimentation on the creation and modification of EM fields had been extremely well received, and he was confident that Starfleet would soon benefit hugely from the work that he and others were carrying out.  It compensated enormously for the moments – that still came, now and then – when he missed being part of _Enterprise_ ’s crew in her ongoing adventures. 

Not that he would trade a single moment of his new life for his old.  He had a wife, a family, and a home to come back to, and those were the most important things of all.

That thought reminded him that if all had gone according to his fiendish plans, he was about to become the innocent victim of his own children’s nefarious schemes.  He smoothed the grin from his face and replaced it with a look of tiredness – not hard to do, as the flight from California had been long and wearing.  As advanced as intercontinental flight was these days, it was still nowhere near as effective as warp drive, and it still necessitated hours of near-immobility and sometimes terminal boredom; security considerations prevented him from even using a PADD to review the latest Starfleet research on weapons design, which was his chief topic of interest.

He didn’t even have time to glance into the retinal scanner before the door was jerked open.

“Dadda!” “Dad!”

He was used to being greeted like a long-lost traveller on his return from his occasional forays to the USA, and today was no different.   Not that he thought he would ever tire of such a reception, or that he ever ceased to marvel at the contrast between the outright demonstrativeness of his children towards him and the strict restraint imposed on both his and Maddie’s behaviour towards their father.  One of his deepest fears had been that he might unwittingly recreate the distance and reserve between himself and his son that had existed between him and his father, and the daily proof that this was not so was a source of constant joy and relief.  Hoshi had taught him about relationships, Hoshi was his guiding star in this as in so much else, and he put entirely down to her his success as a loving father; notwithstanding the fact that he had quite simply adored both of his children the moment they were put into his arms....

“Hey, did you miss me then?” He braced himself against the onslaught of arms wrapping around him, though taking the opportunity to wrap his own in return.  “Whoa, steady, you’ll knock me down!”

“We always miss you, Dad!” Charles hugged him even harder.  “And you know we couldn’t knock you down if we tried!”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Growing like bloody weeds, the pair of you.  Come on, let me get in the door.  And I hope someone’s got the tea on, or I’ll divorce her.”

“She’s in the shower!” Jessa giggled.  “Washing her bum ‘cause you like it so much!” 

“JESS!” Her brother was scandalised.

The muscles in Malcolm’s jaw fairly ached with the effort of keeping his face straight.  _Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings....._

“Well I heard him telling her how much he likes it!” the tot said indignantly.  “You did, didn’t you, Dadda?”

Malcolm coughed, and tried not to catch Charles’ accusing eye.  “I may have mentioned something about it,” he evaded.

“You shouldn’t listen to grownups when they’re talking lovey stuff anyway.” His son pulled a gargoyle face, and took the briefcase and jacket from him.  “Mom’ll be out of the bathroom in a minute, Dad, the water isn’t running any more.  Then you can get in.  Best be quick, though, the dinner’s nearly ready.” 

One eyebrow rose.  As pleased as his children invariably were to see him, it was unusual to have his schedule plotted quite so meticulously.

“I’ll just run up and see,” he responded disingenuously.  As he took the stairs two at a time, a wail of delighted accusation followed him.

“DADDA WANTS TO SEE MUMMA’S BUM!”

=/\= 

It could not be truthfully claimed that he passed up altogether the delightful if brief opportunity to admire his wife’s bottom as they exchanged places in the bathroom.  If a woman was so obliging as to raise the towel that wrapped her slender body just enough to let that most delectable set of curves catch her husband’s eye, it would have been ungentlemanly indeed of him to let such a kindness go unacknowledged.  He might even have considered himself thereby licensed to allow one hand to explore that enticing roundness.  But fearing that if he detained her for more extensive exploration he would be the subject of further denunciation from their youngest child, Malcolm paused only to give Hoshi a smacking kiss before fairly pushing her out of the bathroom, mitigating his knavish conduct with only the whispered word ‘Later!’ 

As blissful it was to wash off the stresses of travel under his own shower in his own bathroom in his own house, for once he didn’t linger about it.  He was quite acute enough to interpret his wife’s gleaming smile and nod as all the evidence he needed that his baited trap had been sprung, and that the only thing remaining was to enjoy being manoeuvred into buying the puppy he already owned.

He had always maintained his intention to buy a dog, as soon as his children were old enough to treat the animal responsibly; he did not approve of the risks inherent in combining large teeth and small babies.  He had been looking around with care for some months now, and finally found a local breeder whose pedigree German Shepherd bitch was about to whelp.  He had been embarrassed to find himself recognised, and had had some ado to prevent having a puppy pressed on him as a gift; the deal was finally settled with a slightly reduced asking price and a little harmless play-acting when the pup should be ready for its new home. 

Hoshi, who liked dogs too, and whose part-time home-working would allow her time to help him train the new arrival to fit into the household, had been only too happy to play along.  From that moment on there was nothing to do but wait till they got the message that the puppy was ready, and fortuitously that had come the day before his return home from San Francisco.  His wife was already primed with the route she had to take home (ready to cite ‘traffic problems’ if Charles noticed they’d diverted from the usual road), and there could be little doubt that if the notice was there in place their sharp-eyed, dog-mad son would do the rest.

As he dried himself quickly and got into the tracksuit that was laid out waiting for him, Malcolm allowed himself a small, satisfied smile; it appeared that his tactical skills had not deserted him.  Catching sight of his expression in the mirror at the top of the stairs, he once again had to erase an unmistakable smirk – his old colleagues aboard _Enterprise_ wouldn’t recognise him now, smiles came to his face so easily and so often.

Dinner was eaten at the table, and manners were expected, though the governance of them was far less strict than had ever been the case at his parents’ home.  His children were allowed to talk freely, unlike himself and Maddie, but inclusion in the family meal was a privilege and was expected to be treated as such.  A children’s table and chairs were still in the garage, and there was the implicit (if not particularly serious) threat that they could be resurrected for use if proper table manners were not observed.  On this particular evening, a far less observant man than Malcolm would have noticed that both the youngsters were eating their food as though they hadn’t been fed for a month, and casting reproachful glances at their parents’ rather slower pace of consumption.

Meals in the Sato-Reed household tended to vacillate between the respective cuisines.  Tonight, to celebrate his return, Hoshi had served up his favourite ‘Toad in the Hole’, and for all that aboard _Enterprise_ his appetite had been second only to Trip Tucker’s (Trip could eat like a wolf in a famine winter and still go back for more), it was a close-run thing to finish the last delicious mouthful.

“Why don’t you go and sit down in the lounge and have a little nap?” suggested Hoshi, starting to gather the empty plates.

“I’ll take care of the table!” Charles fairly snatched the dinnerware from her hands.  “Jess, you bring the glasses – and don’t drop any!”

Husband and wife traded a small, secret smile as the children rushed to ferry the dinner things into the kitchen.  A whispered conference took place as the dishwasher was loaded, but was hushed into a tense silence as the placemats were whisked away and restored to the sideboard and the crystal rose-bowl placed carefully in the exact centre of the table. 

Normally Malcolm and Hoshi would sit together on the sofa, but tonight Hoshi deliberately took one of the armchairs.  From the way she was biting her lip, it was obvious that she was waiting with delight for the fun to start, and for the third time that evening he was obliged to wipe a smile off his face.

His parental radar picked up a moment of intense if wordless communication between his children, and then they came around the sofa and sat one on either side of him, cuddling up to him.

“Well, this is a pleasure!” he said lightly, one arm around either of them.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were after something!” 

“It’s not like that, Dad!” The sting of a rather-less-than-easy conscience lent a guilty note to Charles’ indignant denial.  “We do love you, of course we do!”

“Yeah!  We love you _loads!_ ” piped up Jessa.

There was a short silence, while he pressed his lips together to keep them straight.  Hoshi picked up a magazine and took refuge behind it, but he saw the infinitesimal shake of the pages; she was giggling her head off.

“Da-ad – you know when we were coming home from school...”

“Well, yes, not personally, because I wasn’t there, but I daresay you did,” Malcolm said encouragingly.

“Well, there was this sign...”

“A sign.  A road-sign?”

“No, a _cardboard_ sign.” Charles was far too deep in the minefield to realise his father was teasing, and went on, now with a note of unmistakable anxiety, “You – you know you’ve always said about having a dog?”

“I may have mentioned it now and again,” nodded the head of the household, with the appropriate gravity.

“Well, it said on the sign they had _puppies_ for sale!”

“And we went and _looked_ at them!”  Jessa could contain her excitement no longer, and burst out, almost climbing up him in her anxiety.  “And they only had one left, and it was a Sherman Jepard, and they said they’d _keep_ him for us, and oh Dadda can we have one, _can_ we, _pleeeeeease_?”

“Well, we haven’t heard what your mother has to say about it,” he pointed out.

“Mum, tell him!”

“Oh Dadda, he was lovely, he had ears and _everything!_ ”

“Well I wouldn’t even consider buying a puppy who hadn’t any ears.  How would he hear us talking to him?”  The pressure on his jaw muscles by now almost unbearable, he looked across at Hoshi, who took a moment to compose her face before emerging from behind the magazine, her eyes bright with unshed tears of laughter.  “Well, Mrs. Sato-Reed, do you have anything significant to add to the tale of this paragon among puppies, complete with ears?” 

“He _was_ a cute little guy,” she replied, with only the smallest of tremors in her voice.  “And it was really lucky we just happened to see the sign, and they just happened to have one left.”

Charles looked at her closely, and she was undone; she started to giggle uncontrollably.  A frown of suspicion creased his brow as he swung around to stare at his father.  “Dad, did you _know_ about those puppies?”

The man who had been trained by Starfleet’s covert ops branch to withstand torture crumbled like a month-old digestive biscuit and began to laugh his head off.  He couldn’t help it, even when Jessa started to punch him in the chest and squeal “You did!  You did!”

Her brother began to land a few punches of his own on Malcolm’s heaving ribs.  “ _Dad!_ You – you rotter!”

“Oh, God.  Oh, I’m too old for this!  Pack it in, you pair of maniacs!”  He fended them off with difficulty.  “I admit it.  I might have heard something about them.  A while back.”

“You’ve _seen_ them?”

“No.” He captured Jessa’s flailing fists and held them still.  “I haven’t seen them, because when I visited they weren’t born yet.  I talked to the breeder and I saw the parents, and I liked what I saw.  But in the end I wanted my kids to see the puppy first and decide they wanted him to be one of the family.  And you did and you have, and that’s good enough for me.  We’ll go over there and you can show him to me, and he’s ours.”

“Now!  Dadda, we go _now!_ ” howled Jessa.

“No, sweetheart, we do not go now.”  He held up his hand, stilling her protest.  “I’ll make a phone call, and arrange for us to go there tomorrow so I can meet him, and then we’ll collect him on Saturday after we’ve had time to buy all the things we need – he’ll need a basket, and food, and a leash, and toys, and whatever else.  He’s not going anywhere and nor are we.  It’s only two days away.” 

Her lip trembled, but she recognised the voice of authority, and seeing satisfied acceptance in Charles’s face she nodded dolefully.

“I think you should both thank your dad for this,” Hoshi said gently.  “It was his idea from the start.”

“Well, I still think he’s a rotter for playing a trick on us, but – _thanks_ , Dad.”  The boy buried his face in his father’s chest and hugged him, and Jessa swallowed her brief disappointment and did the same.  “I can’t wait till you see him.  He’s just beautiful!”

“’S got _ears!_ ” came a muffled voice.

Above their heads, Malcolm winked at his wife.  “My pleasure.”


	3. Chapter 3

The years aboard _Enterprise_ had afforded Malcolm more than his share of tense moments, but he could remember nothing quite like the atmosphere as he walked for the second time into the breeder’s house.  He was aware of his children watching him, hardly daring to breathe as he settled down on the sofa to meet the newest member of his family.  Hoshi was naturally also present, but keeping very much in the background.

Technically he still had the power to refuse the puppy – there was a waiting list for puppies from the stud, and certainly there would be an alternative purchaser available – but already in his heart he knew that he wasn’t going to.  He was no expert, but he’d done his homework: the O’Donnell stud produced fine, healthy dogs, and he trusted the breeder’s promise that he should have the best male of the expected litter.  More than any consideration of the quality of the puppy, however, was the utter impossibility of breaking his children’s hearts.

Still, it was a big moment, for him as well as for them.  His life as well as his family was changing, expanding – growing in ways he could never have conceived of ten years ago.  He drew a long, steadying breath.  He’d never been afraid of responsibility, but this... having three people so utterly dear to him, having a life so rich that losing any part of it would be worse than losing a limb; after all his life having so little, now having so _much_ to lose... sometimes he felt like a tightrope-walker, never seeing the height until he looked down. And now there was to be a fourth life for whom he was to be responsible.  Not as dear as the others, that went without saying, but most especially to the children, the dog’s welfare would be so deeply important....

The door opened, and the breeder walked in carrying the puppy, which seemed to have been woken from sleep.  To the sound of indrawn breaths from the two children, the drowsy creature was placed into Malcolm’s hands.

Time rolled back.  He had blood on his hands, and they held the tiny, newborn wolf puppy he had cut from its mother’s belly.  _Nech_... and the amazement on every face as he’d drawn the tiny puppy into view on his return to the village; on one face in particular....

But this was no pre-term newborn, fighting for life; this was a sturdy eight-week-old puppy, who’d been born into privilege and cared for in canine luxury.  The strong bones under the black and tan puppy-wool held the promise of a big dog to come, as did the disproportionately large paws.  There was no fear in the brightening brown eyes that gazed back at him, just the happy expectation of kindness.  And that – as well as the appropriate discipline of course – was something that the puppy’s future home could offer without stint.

Malcolm swallowed something in his throat, and tried to sound casual.  “Hello, sunshine.  You want to come and live with this pair, then?” 

Charles spoke, his voice tiny with tension.  “Dad ... you like him?”

He laid the pup across his knees and stroked his back, feeling the strong little body wriggling with joy at being fussed over; Jessa touched the damp black nose and immediately a long pink tongue washed her hand, so that she giggled.

It was time to put the final seal to his family unit.

“I think this is _our_ dog.”


	4. The Epilogue

Late the following evening, the newest member of the family was making his presence felt. 

It was understandable, of course.  He was suddenly alone, without his Mum, in a strange house full of strange smells.  While there had been people around him it had been different; he didn’t have time to worry.  Now, however, he was very worried indeed.  His cries resounded through the house; both Jessa and Charles had come into their parents’ bedroom almost in tears, and even Hoshi was suggesting gently that ‘leaving him to settle down’ was unkind.

Malcolm was a firm believer in discipline, but he was far from unkind.  In truth, the piteous wails from the kitchen were tearing at his conscience too.  He had far too much experience of his own of loneliness and fear, and he could sympathise all too closely with the plight of the forlorn little animal downstairs.

With a sigh, he threw back the quilt.  What the hell, it was Saturday; he could always catch up with his night’s sleep on the morrow.

There was a fur throw in the ottoman at the foot of the bed.  He fished it out, kissed his wife and went downstairs; pausing only to shoo his children back to bed, while assuring them that everything was going to be all right and they should get to sleep.

A night-light had been left on in the kitchen, in hopes of making its small occupant feel less afraid.  Its light was more than sufficient to show him the puppy scampering across the slate floor-tiles towards him, tail a-wag with joy and relief.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for ever since deciding what the pup should be called.  He folded his arms, assumed a look of exasperation and said, “Mistah Tuckah, what on _earth_ is the meaning of all this?”

The puppy of course, was sure of his welcome, and the joke went entirely over his small head.  Laughing, Malcolm squatted, holding his hands out to catch the delighted pup.  Almost without realising it, he spoke in the language of The People: _“Vhé, nechí, herchi vo masere?”_ ‘Eh, littl’un, did you miss me?’

“I still get a kick out of hearing you speak a different language,” said a low, amused voice behind him.  “On _Enterprise_ you were the last man on board who was interested in linguistics.  Though I believe Em taught you a few words you probably wouldn’t have used for choice in front of the captain.”

“You should still be in bed.  God knows I wish I was.”  He picked up the wriggling puppy and fended off enthusiastic attempts to lick his face.  “Young Master Tucker, you are a pain in the arse and a general nuisance, and this once I’m going to stay down here with you.  But be advised, this is my very sexy and shaggable wife and I am not going to sleep down here with _you_ every night when I could be upstairs with _her_.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay tomorrow.” Hoshi put her arms comfortingly around him.  “Do you think it’ll take him long to settle down?”

“Well, ideally I’d prefer it if he sleeps downstairs, but I suppose I might have to shut my eyes if his basket mysteriously wafts its way up to the kids’ room tomorrow.” He grimaced.  “But a basket it is, and a basket is where he sleeps.  If I find him on or under a duvet, it’s back to the kitchen for him, and you can tell both of them that from me.  The one place I regard as sacrosanct is our bedroom.”  He kissed her again.  “One night I say and one night I mean. This is the one and only time in my life I’m going to share a sleeping space with a Tucker. The only one I want in my arms from tomorrow night onwards is you.”

She smiled.  “I’ll hold you to that.”

It was the work of moments to put together a makeshift bed on the sofa.  Malcolm lay down on it and got comfortable, his back to the hearth, and Hoshi spread the throw over him.  As soon as he nodded he was ready, she picked Tucker up and placed him in the curve of her husband’s body, where he settled down with obvious eagerness and relief, his tail thumping.  “Sleep well, you two.”

“Switch the light off before you go,” Malcolm said resignedly.  There was the click of a switch, and the low radiance of the night-light disappeared.  But as he listened to the faint sound of her footsteps retreating towards the door, he said suddenly, “Hoshi?”

“What?”

“Please come here a minute.”

There was a tiny pause, and then the footsteps came back towards the couch.  She knelt beside him, and he put out a hand.

“There’s something I want to say to you,” he said softly.  “About the dog’s name.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the sort of name I was expecting you to choose.  And I thought you might leave it up to the kids to find a name.”

“I could have done, but then if they couldn’t agree one of them would have lost, and that wouldn’t be fair.  I thought about asking you to choose, but then there was a particular reason why I wanted that name.”

“Trip’s your best friend,” she said quietly.

His grip tightened around her fingers and he held her gaze seriously.  “Yes.  He is.  And he’s the man I trust above everyone else to protect the people I love when I can’t be there to do it in person.  So what better name could I choose?”

She blinked, brushed her free hand across her face as if to wipe away an unnecessary tear, and then lifted his fingers and kissed them.  “I love you, Malcolm.”

“And I love you, Hoshi.  With all my heart.”  His eyes were growing accustomed to the dim light and he thought all over again how beautiful she was.  “Now I have everything I ever wanted: a wonderful wife, two wonderful children and a dog.  I want to thank you for all of it.”

Even in the dimness he saw her smile; and with that, his world was complete.

“Night night, love.”  She dropped a kiss on his lips, patted Tucker, and went back up the stairs to bed.  The silence of the country night settled down on the house, and Malcolm snuggled himself down under the throw.

Peace finally descended on him, and he slept at last.

 

**THE END.**

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**Author's Note: Seacook made a suggestion that was so utterly brilliant that I couldn't resist rewriting the chapter.  Hats off to her genius - the 'Mistah Tuckah' line was just too great not to use!**

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews make me sooooooo happy...!


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